Almost
by achildofthestars
Summary: HouseCam. They're an angsty couple with committment problems. She wants him. He wants her but he can't show it. As it is, she confronts him. He's finally realizing he needs her. But a major character death looms ahead. Epilogue up!
1. Almost falling

She was pretty sure that the last time she looked into his eyes, there was nothing but crystal blue protecting something she still wasn't sure existed. It was only a moment ago, when she closed his glass office door bearing his name, that it finally hit her. All this time that had passed, all those feelings she thought had broken away, all the professionalism she wore, meant absolutely nothing. She turned away from him, thinking she was fine. Maybe at the time, she was; or maybe she already knew she wasn't and couldn't face it.

* * *

"Absence makes the heart grow fonder." That was the quote ringing in her ears as she made her way through Princeton Plainsboro Teaching Hospital for the second "first" time. She walked like someone touching an old lover after years of divorce and tiredness. She'd only been gone a solid six months. Looking around, she noticed nothing was different. The nurses sat and stood where they always had, the floor was clean and semi-glossy, the smell of antiseptic and thorough cleanliness permeated her heightened senses, and the clinic was still missing a certain doctor.

Whether he knew or not that she had been offered a job here, wasn't known to her. She figured he did because he had to know Dr. Richards had lost a doctor in his immunology department one month ago. Then again, he never did care much for other doctors except for Wilson. She waited for Cuddy to welcome her into her office and to start with the inevitable small talk they hadn't finished over the phone.

"Dr. Cameron, you don't know how glad I am to have you back. I'm sure Dr. Richards will feel the same way since he was looking into retiring when Beck passed away."

"It feels…good to be back," she finally decided. "I'm here to help in any way I can."

"That's good. That's good." She paused and folded her hands before continuing. "And you're sure that working alongside House on a few cases won't be…difficult?"

She chuckled and shook her head. "Of course it'll be difficult, but I'm used to that. I think we all are, at least."

"Well, that's the least to be said."

* * *

He dipped a fry into his ketchup and rolled his eyes at Wilson for the sixtieth time that lunch period.

"Would you stop acting like a 15 year old?"

"Would you stop acting my obsessed friend?"

"Your obsessed friend is not obsessed and he happens to be your only friend, so deal with it."

"Yeah, yeah, yeah. Why are you so concerned about her working here?"

"I'm not _concerned_, I'm just," he shrugged, "interested."

"Well, if you're that interested then go ask her why she came back."

Wilson nodded his head and stuck his fork into his salad. "I already did."

It was the slightest of slightest hesitations as his hand reached for another French fry. It was one that only he felt, and that only Wilson noticed.

"House-."

"I don't care, Wilson."

* * *

She skipped lunch her "first" day since the department was so backlogged on paperwork. Instead of going to the cafeteria, she managed her way to the snack machine not too far away from her office. Rubbing her eyes softly, she deliberated upon which candy bar to tide her over until she could eat a real meal. She frowned suddenly as her fingers pressed the letter number combination again. The candy bar hung precariously over the spiral edge; but nothing came down.

She hit the machine with the palm of her hand, hoping no one would see her lose her patience with a metal and plastic machine. The candy bar still wouldn't fall any farther down.

"Came crawling back, did you?"

Dread fell over her. Dread because of what he would think of her coming back. Dread because she wanted to prove she had changed, but wasn't sure he'd see it that way. Then again, they couldn't very well coexist in the same hospital and not meet again.

"Contrary to what you might believe, I didn't crawl back. Cuddy asked me to come back."

He knew. Of course he knew. He leaned a bit more on his cane as he looked her up and down, not trying to hide it. She'd lightened her hair, trimmed it, and grown out her bangs so that it lay mostly to one side. There wasn't a clip, barrette, or headband adorning her head. Her face was the same, young and open. She'd gained a few pounds which made her curves more pronounced, which wasn't a bad thing at all. He guessed his eyes gave it away because she pulled her coat closer around her.

"I'm not your artwork anymore, House."

"Art appreciation happens to be one of my strong points."

She resisted rolling her eyes since she was determined to remain civil to him. Instead, she forced a slight smile.

"Same old House."

"Same young Cameron."

She nodded her head and looked once more at the machine holding her candy and money hostage. This was more than enough for one day.

"Now that we've established that, I'm going to find something to eat. I'll see you around."

He noticed she didn't wait for his reaction, but it might have been because she knew he wouldn't give one. He heard the small clicks of her shoes meeting hard floor and waited until they dwindled into nothing. Swiftly, he knocked the machine with his cane and waited for the paid for candy to fall down and into his hands.

* * *

It was the end of the day and she was packing her bag full of nearly complete paperwork she'd do before going to sleep at home. Almost eight o'clock, her watch read as she pushed in her chair. Walking down the hall, she wondered briefly if she'd run into House again. Then she saw the small group of four walking with numbers on their ID's. She didn't have to ask if they were House's new fellows, she'd heard enough by now to know they were.

They nearly ran past her, barely giving her enough room to squeeze by. She repositioned her bag without looking up and still walked. She should have looked.

He didn't fall. He'd been watching her. She almost fell. She hadn't noticed him coming. He caught her arm and pressed her against him with his right hand while she gripped his upper arm and tried to regain her balance.

At first, she wasn't sure who she'd almost run down. Then she smelled him, and there was no denying who smelled like this.

"A crippled should not be catching a normal person."

She could only look at him, not able to move or even breathe. His eyes were the same as the night she'd quit, except now she saw something new. Something she wasn't sure she wanted to see.

Pulling back quickly, she cleared her throat. "I'm sorry I didn't see you."

"Tell my leg that."

She couldn't help it then. "You'll get over it."

Then she started walking toward the freedom of the front doors.

He didn't look back. He wasn't the type to look back, but for a moment, he wanted to. He wanted to, and that wasn't good.

* * *

A/N: Yeah, breathe this is a new one. Just to be clear, this is House/Cam and this not an HEA. AKA a "happily ever after." So...read, review, please. It'd mean a lot to me. Anyways, I guess we'll see how this goes. 


	2. Almost pleasant

He blinked into the darkness, barely able to discern the ceiling pattern. Her even breathing calmed his senses, though calming never was a problem. Lightly, he touched the pale arm slung carelessly over his abdomen. It wasn't a caress or a lingering stroke, but more a quick touch. Her dark curly hair covered her slumbering face, and he felt no need to brush it away from her striking features. No, instead he looked back towards the ceiling, wondering how long she would have to hold him.

* * *

Holding a coffee in one hand and her files in the other, she walked briskly into the dark office and flicked the light switch on. No sooner than that, she halted where she was.

"What are you doing here?"

He shrugged his shoulders and motioned towards her office area. "I was just wondering what you'd done with the place since what's his name. Personally, I was hoping for the pink bunnies and the heart shaped picture frames. I'm very sad now."

She held her sigh as she laid her papers down and raised an eyebrow at him. When he still didn't move, she put her cup down on the desk.

"Thanks a lot. You didn't make this did you?"

"Hey!" She reached over with both hands to cover his hands over the still warm mug. At the touch, she slightly lowered her eyes so she wouldn't have to see him reading her. He released his hold after watching her reaction.

"I'm not your employee anymore, House. You can't just come in here and take over my office and drink my coffee."

"It's been over a month and we haven't chatted about how your wonderful life is going. I figured we could catch up, reminisce, laugh, and then buy me drinks."

Without hesitation, she walked away from where he sat in her chair and opened the glass door which led out of the office. She watched as he grabbed his cane from her desk and sullenly limped towards her.

"You can't hide from me forever. That's just impractical."

"I'm hardly hiding from you, House. If I need you for anything, you'll see me."

"Just let me know ahead of time. My cane and I might be super busy."

* * *

"Apparently, she was the one who ended it with Chase. He wanted to marry her; she doesn't want to be married. He stayed in Arizona; she took Cuddy's offer. And she's never dating a co-worker again."

"When did you become her bosom buddy?"

"I do have friends that aren't you, House."

"Well, congratulations. You've won an 'I don't care.'"

"I know you want to know."

"I already knew."

Wilson frowned. "What? How did you…. Oh. Ohhhh. Really? You asked her?"

"No, she volunteered it. She seemed to think I cared about why Cameron came back. Don't know where that came from though." He reached to Wilson's plate and grabbed the sandwich. "You going to eat that? Okay."

* * *

She leaned back in her chair, fighting the inevitable. With file in hand, she counted the seconds down to zero before slowly standing up. She needed him.

* * *

"I need you."

"Not in front of the kiddos, Dr. Cameron. I do have _some_ decency."

"35 year old female presented with acute pancreatitis, splenomegaly, syncope, depression."

"Doesn't sound too hard."

"She's 92 pounds even being fed through IV her weight won't rise. And she's allergic to the sun."

* * *

"Makes you miss the good ole days, doesn't it?"

She bit into her sandwich. "No, it doesn't."

"Come on! Don't you miss the rush of adrenaline as you came up with your idea and waited for me to fling it back in your face?"

"Oh yes. Being mocked and ridiculed was just fabulous."

"It was, wasn't it?"

"At least when you were my boss, I didn't have to buy you lunch because you were right."

"No, you bought them 'cause you wanted to date me."

"Which was a colossal mistake on my part."

"Ouch. Since when did you hurt people's feelings."

She took a sip from her water and shook her head. "House…thank you."

He didn't bother to look up. "If you had learned what you were supposed to under me, you wouldn't need to thank me."

She should have known better. Almost, it had almost been pleasant. They finished their lunch in silence.

* * *

She'd bought him lunch since it was sort of their one month anniversary. Was there an anniversary dedicated only to sex? In any case, she carried the white Styrofoam containers to his office, and then to Wilson's. When she didn't find him, she made her way to the cafeteria, passing by Cameron's office. That's when she saw them eating in total silence with the radio on.

For whatever reason, she didn't want them to see her. For whatever reason, she couldn't help but swallow in surprise. For over a month he had never asked one question about Cameron or why she had hired her back. She knew he had to care about the three people who had been by his side for over three years, but with the woman sitting opposite him, would it be too much?

She had to stifle a chuckle that was about to rush out of her. House _liking_ Cameron like _that_? It was a silly thought because House, while obviously interested in Cameron, would never give himself to her. But then she saw him drop a piece of tomato into Cameron's open cup of water. It didn't mean anything, even when Cameron frowned and said, "Jerk."

Straightening, she turned away from the doorway and began to walk down the hallway. She wasn't threatened; she was confident in herself. She wasn't offended; Cameron and House would have to work together. She wasn't worried; Cameron's feelings couldn't be reciprocated. She was however nervous; he'd always had some sort of spot for his only female duckling. With a shrug, she shook her head and read the name on her door before walking in: Dr. Lisa Cuddy.

* * *

A/N: So many comments about this not being an HEA. And while I myself have to be a very dark mood to read character death stories, I find myself wanting to write a hopeless tragedy. So, yes, I am sure House or Cam will die...or maybe even both. I may have to fight myself because part of me such a romantic...but there are SO many HEA's, that I need to write a NHEA. But I can promise you guys, it will be tactful, dramatic, angering, believable, and not that long. Hopefully, around 15 chaps if even. Well, if you have any more questions, send them my way. And thanks again guys. 


	3. Almost secrets

She rested her chin in her hand while overlooking the patient file. The tapping of her pen soothed her anxiousness, or maybe it was defeat that needed the soothing. With a few pen strokes, she finally finished what was left of Andrew Parson's thickening hospital file. With a solemn thump, she closed his file. There was nothing left to do.

* * *

Smiling, she gently shook her head at Andrew's joke.

"Here's another one. What do you call a woman with one leg?"

"I have no idea."

"Ilene."

There was no helping the laugh that escaped her lips as the ten year old covered his mouth while he laughed along. She looked towards the boy's father who could only nod his head. She imagined he'd heard these all before. Maybe he'd even given them to his only child.

"That was a good one, Andrew. You don't mind if I borrow it, do you?"

"I don't mind, Dr. Cameron. Maybe you'll finally get that one doctor to laugh."

"What doctor?"

"That one with the cane."

"He came in here the other day," Andrew's father interjected. "I've heard a lot of stories about him, but he wasn't…terrible."

Cameron tried to smile but could only frown at the new information. House had been here? He wasn't terrible? Did they have the right House?

"Well, some of the stories about House are exaggerated," she lied with a smile.

* * *

"Did you see Andrew Parsons? Oh!"

She quickly averted her eyes and cleared her throat as Cuddy abruptly pulled away from the wall, nearly flinging House into the middle of the room.

"Hey! Crippled does not equal rubber band."

"Dr. Cameron, we were just-."

"Trying to have sex."

"House," Cuddy warned.

"Uh, I should have knocked. I just figured…House…and then you know. I'll just come back later."

Without looking back, she walked down the hallway and made her way to the women's bathroom. Once she was inside, she let out a laugh nearly loud enough to be heard from House's office. Why it was hilarious, she didn't know, and she couldn't stop. House and Cuddy…now that was something.

* * *

"I can't believe you didn't lock the door! What kind of idiot doesn't lock his office door!"

"An idiot being mauled, that's who."

"Oh, I did not maul you. I can't believe she saw us. Do you think she'll tell anyone?"

He picked his cane up from the floor. To be honest, he wasn't quite sure of what Cameron would do anymore. It was safe to assume she wouldn't say anything because Foreman and Chase weren't here, Wilson already knew, but he was sure she'd made new friends in her own department.

"Well, if it does get out, at least we can do it wherever we want."

* * *

She should have been home hours ago. Instead, she was sitting comfortably in the dark office, eyes closed, feet propped on desk, listening to the softly playing i-pod on her desk. Her thoughts were light, meaningless, carefree, simple. That's what she needed.

He couldn't help but smirk at the picture she made. Did she even realize who she looked like? As softly as he could, he opened her door and made his way into her little spot of the room.

She opened her eyes, feeling somewhat uncomfortable as a tingle ran up her spine. Adjusting to the dark, she immediately saw his figure in the room and dropped her feet to the carpeted floor.

"What are you doing here?"

"Why do you keep asking me that?"

"Because you won't stay out."

"You make it sound like you intentionally don't want me in here."

He limped forward to her desk where he promptly rested against it, before reaching into his pocket for Vicodin. Expecting some type of remark, he waited for a brief moment.

"You're not going to say anything?"

"About what?"

"About me being a druggie, junkie, Vicodin loving doctor?"

"Hey," she waved her hands, "What you do is your business."

There was another pause as he watched her sitting in the chair. Well, there was Cuddy's answer.

"What happened to the morally outspoken Cameron?"

"She's still here, but being away has given me some perspective."

"I've heard about that. Don't you need binoculars for that?"

"House, have you seen my patient, Andrew Parsons?"

"I don't ever see any patients."

"Ten year old with AIDS, likes to crack jokes before you give him bad news?"

"You mean, 'What do you call a woman with one leg?' No."

She slightly turned her head, wondering not for the first time, what went on inside of his brilliant yet stunted mind. Raising an eyebrow, she asked, "So, you and Cuddy?"

"Is this where the jealous fangs burst out? 'Cause you're in luck, I just got all my shots."

"Fine," she replied as she stood and turned off her i-pod, leaving the room suddenly in a bath of dark shadows.

"Hold me, I'm scared of the dark!"

"You'll get over it. Now, get out."

She held the door open for him, except when he reached where she stood, he stopped. He looked at her, and she had to fight the urge to swallow. For a long ten seconds, he began to lean into her, never taking his eyes from hers. Then his arm reached up, brushing her own, and she did swallow quietly.

Hadn't she passed this stage? Wasn't she over him? She'd just laughed at him and Cuddy, right? Where was this nervousness coming from?

"Cameron," he said softly so that his breath gently moved some of her hair. "Just a little more weight to go and you'll be the finest girl here."

She exhaled sharply, her mind suddenly remembering where it exactly should be, and where it shouldn't. Taking a step away so he would have to hold the door himself, she didn't bother to look back. It wasn't so hard, she'd found out.

"Except for you of course."

He didn't reply to her, and he didn't even want to say anything back. He let the door shut on its own. He walked down the corridor until he rounded the bend and could finally see his office's glass walls. His team of four numbers sat hunched over the current patient's file, and all he could think of, was that she still liked him. All this time, and she still couldn't work it out. His ego was, as usual, satiated at the thought. His mind though, knew that he was treading in dark water.

* * *

A/N: Heyheyhey! Well, not much to say this time around. Sorry it took so long…and did you watch the season premiere? If you did…then…you…completely…totally…suck. I had to miss it because of some stupid conference thing. Yeah, I'm ticked. Anyways, thanks guys! 


	4. Almost guilty

A/N: Okay, so this might get confusing. We're gonna switch from Cam to House/Cuddy a lot.

* * *

He automatically reached for the Vicodin when he woke. When she raised up on elbow to watch him, he could feel her worry. It was something she'd never given up on even after these past three months– him getting "clean." Looking at the clock, he realized he'd rather be home at 3:00 in the morning than here. He'd rather be alone. And so he left as she watched him leave like always.

* * *

It was the mistake she'd always made. It was the same mistake she'd told her own peers, at her last job, to steer clear of. It was the mistake of getting too close to your patient.

She cleared her throat, trying to stall what would come next. She watched Matt Parsons' grab for his son's thin hand, needing reassurance from a ten year old to do what was necessary. The boy nodded his head, too exhausted to speak. She put a hand on Matt's shoulder, mistaking the subtle jerk for surprise instead of anger.

* * *

"Why are you doing this?"

"Why? Why? I'm not a 20 year old bimbo who's got the rest of her life to have kids, House! You've known since the beginning-."

"I don't want nor do I need kids! _You_ knew that from the beginning."

* * *

This would be the beginning of the end for Andrew Parsons. She checked on him an hour after the decision to stop all medication except for morphine. His father was telling him jokes. He never looked up to acknowledge her, but she could understand why. She couldn't do anything.

* * *

"You can't run away from this, House."

He sat down in his chair. "Things are fine the way they are."

"Fine? Fine?" She braced her arms on his desk. "Our relationship is not fine."

"I didn't realize we were in a relationship. Missed the memo."

"It's not funny, House." She paused, not wanting to say this and have him completely write it off. But she had complicated things; she liked him. "This can be more if you want it to."

* * *

There was nothing that could lift her spirits. She ate half of her sandwich before chucking the whole thing into the trash can. Deciding to catch some fresh air, she walked out onto the balcony that normally, only Dr. Richards would use. However, she didn't care that he might find her. So much had changed only to stay the same.

* * *

"What do you mean?"

"I mean," she continued cautiously, "that I…have feelings for you, House. And if you can be mature about this, that this could mean something for both of us."

He looked at her, noting the sheer openness of her face. She was putting everything on the line, and he wasn't ready to. He looked down at his pager.

"I've got a patient to see."

"House, you can't run away from me."

"No, but I _can_ limp away."

* * *

Children are the most innocent. They shouldn't have to suffer. She couldn't bring herself to go into his room. Instead, she halted at the wall and watched him struggle for breath from afar. She should feel guilty, not being with him. But she didn't. She felt relief because she didn't have to. And that in turn, almost made her guilty.

The father was sleeping in the chair, slumped and leaning over the left edge. The son was watching the television, trying to smile at the stand up comedy routine. He never looked her way, probably because he couldn't.

She covered her mouth with her hand, suddenly weary beyond all belief. It was the toll, her punishment, her burden, of getting so close. He didn't deserve to die like this, and that's what stayed with her as she walked away.

* * *

He didn't bother to say anything as House barged into his office and began to fiddle with the odd ornaments everywhere. He continued with his paperwork, determined to wait out the always stoic Gregory House.

"You know? I think it's time we came out of the closet."

"Really? I was just getting comfortable," Wilson replied without pausing in his writing.

"Why deny our true feelings? Who can stop us? God, the mayor, governor, president, congress, highway patrol?"

"While I love your declaration of…love, I'm pretty sure the one person to stop you would be Cuddy."

House nodded his head, slightly tsking, as he leaned against Wilson's semi-cluttered desk. To tell or not to tell.

"Cuddy wants more. I mean, who wouldn't, right? She wants the white picket fence, ring on her finger, a minivan and 2.5 kids."

"Really? She told you this?"

"Pretty much." He waited, almost not wanting to ask. "What do I do?"

* * *

His father stared at her through red eyes, so tired, that he looked like he was going to fall over at any time. He didn't say much as he stood across from her outside Andrew's room.

"How are you?" It was a stupid question, she knew.

"It's hard, you know?" She did know, too well.

"He's not in pain." She was sure she was reassuring him, not her.

He looked away from her to where his son lay sleeping. "I am."

* * *

He was in the clinic, waiting for her to come out of exam room one. They entered the room, no one asking questions because it was a re-occurring sight for everyone. Anyone paying close attention would have seen the tension in her back, the slight curve on his lips, and the overall hesitation sweltering between them.

"House-."

"I can't."

She started. "You can't…."

He thumped his cane, staring directly at her. "I don't want what you do. Right now, things are good. You think you can change my mind. You think I have a good heart hidden somewhere that no one sees. You think all I need is time and love to make me realize what I'm missing."

"I don't think so."

"I'm never wrong, Cuddy."

"So, what? This is over?"

He lowered his head just a fraction. "Yes."

"Okay," she breathed calmly. At least now she knew. "Okay."

* * *

"It's funny, House."

He glanced up from his magazine, startled that someone was coming to him. Taking the glasses off his face, he leaned back, wondering why Allison Cameron was in the doorway of his office.

"You always told me to not get attached, but I did. When I left, I finally realized what you meant. I saw them laughing, joking, sharing secrets with their patients, and then I was the one who told my co-workers to keep their distance, and they tried. I come back and…and I've already gotten too close again."

"The 'Ilene' kid?"

She took a few steps into the world that had always been alluring, if not foreboding. Nothing had changed from when she left. Wasn't that good? She rubbed her tired eyes before placing them into the pockets of her slacks.

"I should know by now to remember I'm their doctor, not their family."

"You wouldn't be Cameron if you didn't cry over lost puppies and dying kids."

She looked at him, seemingly calm and relaxed, while always being demanding without saying a word. She shook her head slightly, biting at her weary smile.

"What?"

"House…," she briefly closed her eyes with a sigh. What did she have to say? Anything that mattered? No. Nothing mattered with him except his cases. "Goodnight. I'll see you tomorrow."

She walked out, barely able to have a clear thought with everything running inside her mind. She could only deal with one thing at a time, and right now, that was Andrew dying. House could wait another day.

He watched her leave, wondering why she had come to him. It must mean she still had the crush on him. It didn't mean anything, it never had for four years. But this wasn't the same Cameron. But it wasn't a new Cameron either. Tired of thinking about women, he put his glasses back on. Tomorrow was another day.


	5. Almost counts

She turned her head to look at the red lit clock shining 4:30 in the morning. With a quick shake of her head, she stood, shoulders slumped, and walked out into the brightly lit hallway leading to a single quiet room. There might have been hesitation in her steps had anyone bothered to notice. There might have been anger echoing in the silent corridor had anyone been around to care. There might have been a lot for no one to see.

* * *

It had been hours. At 6:34, she held the same weighted chart in her left hand. With a slight tremble, she whispered the words, "Time of death." That was the end. Three words and a time which defined his death. So clean for something that had been so messy, so wonderful.

She held a man, a father, who'd just lost the only thing that mattered more than the world. His shoulders shook violently as she held him even tighter.

"It's going to get better, Matt. It just takes time."

There was nothing to say after that. She nodded her head, all the while telling herself this was the last time she'd forget she was a doctor.

* * *

He walked like a man preparing for battle. Head high, shoulders straight, gait strong and wide, he made his way to the clinic. Signing in, he grabbed the first patient file on the stack before turning around on his cane. It was an action he'd regret, if he actually could regret. He was face to face with a young, blonde, beautiful woman.

"Morning, House."

Noting the dark circles, slightly puffy eyes, still damp hair, and slight frown, he wondered what she'd done all night. Then he remembered. The sick kid must have died.

"And not a good morning for you. You look awful."

With just a jerk of a smile, she reached for another file. "You look miserable. Are we done?"

"I'm just saying some concealer wouldn't kill you. Last time I try to be nice and give you advice."

"You'll get over it."

"And what if I don't?"

She started to call out a name and walked away. "Well, I'll get over it."

* * *

"Are you serious?"

"Uh, no. I was just asking a rhetorical question to see how stupid you've become. Apparently, very."

"House, I," she put her hands on the papers nearly littering her desk. She'd gotten so far behind so fast. "I would, but I really can't find the time for it."

"Paperwork? You're dumping me, the man you've had a crush on for four years, for dead trees?"

"Unlike you, some doctors have to have paperwork to turn in so they don't get fired. And I didn't have a crush for four years so get over yourself."

"You're buying," he sat down and made himself comfortable loudly. "I have to wait on you."

She sighed, silently thankful that she'd have a valid reason to drink. She hadn't touched a drop since the call to come back months ago. Her thoughts were pulled back when a belligerent sound came from her desk. Without thought, she opened the drawer and was momentarily struck with a feeling of having absolutely no idea what to do.

"What the hell is that?" His voice brought her back.

She finally reached forward and grabbed the offending object. It had the characteristics of a yellow smiley face, but where the smile usually hid teeth, it now showed green LED lights telling the current time.

He didn't have to ask. It was the dead kid's watch, telling her something or reminding her of something, he didn't know.

Holding it a second longer before dropping it back into the drawer, she looked up. "Let's go."

* * *

They ordered round after round while trying to outdo the other at some childlike game. It was a miniature Chinese Checkers type of game and House had won the last three times in a row. Cameron leaned her elbow on the table and rested her chin in hand. He wasn't awful, she thought fleetingly. House leaned back in the booth, crossing his long legs beside hers. She wasn't boring he'd learned.

"So what happened with you and Cuddy? I thought you two were together, but now I don't see you two…together."

"Demon got me pregnant with her satan child. Of course she dumped me after she found out, Bitch!"

"Shut up," she laughed. "You know, this has been…different from what I expected."

"Better than your dreams except for the sex part, right?"

"If I had dreams with you in them, yeah."

"That's no way to stroke my ego. What you want to do is-."

The thought had been with her since the first time she'd seen him, though she'd never admit it to him. The drinks made her bolder, three years had thickened her skin, and months had given her some peace, ultimately making her somewhat impervious to what his hurtful reply would undoubtedly be. Her past experience with Chase warned her not to, but House was nowhere near Chase. House could play with no problems.

"Come home with me." She met the silence dead on with a stare. "I'm not looking for a relationship, House. I just want one night with no strings."

The abrupt statement startled him like no other had. He looked at her, openly sad and free at the same time. There always was a string attached when it came to anything about her and him.

"You're almost drunk."

She downed the rest of her shot. Right now wasn't about the complicated workings of inner conflicts between them two. It was just a need of not wanting to be alone.

"Since when did you care about almost?"

* * *

The last time she'd done something like this, it was impulsive and idiotic. She grabbed the edges of his jacket and pulled him closer to her. Her lips met his, not unlike the last time. There was hesitancy, need, and just the beginning of reckless passion. Her heart nearly stopped as he gripped her wrists and brought them together between them.

"Just checking," he said to her startled look before kissing her again.

He could clearly remember their first and last kiss many months ago. The taste of her had never quite washed away. The feel of her against his body hadn't dissipated into vague memory. Last time, she'd had the upper hand. This time, he wasn't about to let her have it again.

Letting her lead him to her bedroom, he stopped in the middle of the room, not paying heed to her trying to get him to the bed. The dim light from the living room carried into the stark black room, giving him just enough vision to see where he was. He dropped his cane to the floor and took a step forward. She wasn't paying attention to his limp; somehow he was relieved.

"No going back," he whispered as he kissed her neck and began to make his way down to her pale collarbone. She smelled so good. He hoped she didn't change her mind.

"I'll get over it," she whispered back as he opened the first button on her crimson blouse.

They undressed each other slowly, this was the first and last time wasn't it? They had to enjoy it. Every touch was deliberate, every kiss wasn't meant to mean anything but need, every heavy breath gave consent, and every second was delayed so that the first time would give them both wanted relief.

He finally turned her on her back and gently parted her legs with his bad thigh, not even aware of anything but a dull, faded pain. Her gasp as she felt him almost about to enter her, almost made him smile. He held himself back, not sure why he still hadn't seen enough of her.

"House," came her hoarse moan to his ears, and he couldn't stop. He answered to her call quickly and deeply, almost groaning himself at the sheer ecstasy of being inside her.

She didn't know when the power had exchanged hands. She was putty in his hands, begging him for release, and was finally on the way to finding it. Everything that had been weighing on her mind, had long since vanished. The only thing that occupied her thoughts was one man. A man who was frustratingly good at making her gasp at every thrust and who eventually made her bite her tongue so she wouldn't scream his name as she hit the pinnacle. Now, she knew. She had almost loved him this whole time.

* * *

A/N: Gah, it's taken me forever to get to here! Anyways, finally, some major H/Cam. More drama sure to come. We might be halfway over, I think. Still debating who's gonna die...but I have this one idea that's been sticking with me. Anyways, thanks a lot!


	6. Almost normal

He didn't know what mistake he'd just made. There was the obvious: sleeping with Cameron. He leaned over the edge of the bed to find his jeans. Of course, it hadn't been a mistake while in the throes of it. Looking over at her still slumbering body under the white sheet, he fought the urge to caress her bare back. And then there was the next obvious mistake: sleeping over. It was time to leave.

* * *

Walking into the hospital, he wondered why everyone was staring at him. His shirt was pretty clean, his pants were fine, his jacket was the same, and even his cane was normal. Even when he walked into the conference room, his numbers couldn't stop looking at him while he got his coffee.

"Everyone, quick! Watch the cripple about to fire his retarded numbers for buggin'!"

"We're not…'buggin!'"

"You just don't seem so…."

He waited for the numbers to look at each other as if to confirm their findings.

"Miserable," one dared to finish.

* * *

"I've been hearing about this new and improved House."

"Yeah? They tell you I now come with air bags and GPS?"

Wilson sat down in front of House's desk and folded his arms. "What gives?"

House leaned back in his chair and stuck his chin out defiantly. "I don't know what you're talking about."

"There's something…different."

"I don't know what you're talking about."

"Everyone's talking about it."

"I don't know what you're talking about."

"Did you do something last night? You didn't spray paint over those kids' 'happy family night' mural?"

"I _don't _know what you're talking about."

Slightly closing his eyes, Wilson watched House, hoping to get something off of his body language.

Certain that Wilson would never figure out what he was hiding, House began to wonder what everyone was talking about.

"Unless you slept with someone, I don't know."

He scoffed at Wilson's remark.

Wilson's eyes widened. "You did! Who?"

"What the hell? I scoffed, which means no."

"No, no, no, no. That was your, 'so,' scoff, not your 'whatever,' one."

"Okay, now I really don't know what you're talking about. And I don't think you do either."

"Yeah, yeah. Who'd you sleep with?"

* * *

Stifling a yawn, she gently stretched her neck as she leaned away from the computer screen. Barely past eleven in the afternoon, she felt as if it was eleven in the evening. Of course, three hours of sleep could do that.

For the second time that day, she allowed herself to think about what she'd done. What they'd done. Was it a mistake? She picked up her pen with her thumb and index finger of her right hand and slowly put it to her lips. There was no doubt it was. She still liked him; that was too complicated. She was tired of liking him.

Did it change things? It had to. Before, she could almost act as if the nearness of him did nothing to do. Now, she didn't think she'd be able to hide it. She wasn't a good liar with him.

Was it worth it? Sometimes, she was sure. Right now though, as she let the tip of her pen tap her lip, it was severely stressful. She didn't want to know House as a lover. It would make it easier for her to get hurt, because that's all he knew how to do.

* * *

"Apparently, I slept with someone last night."

She raised an eyebrow from where she sat in the MRI room. Nevermind the fact that her heart nearly skipped a beat when she realized it was him. This was professional, the thing between them.

"Really? And who did you sleep with?"

"Big mystery," he said as he sat down beside her. He noticed the subtle jerk of her hand as he moved to rest his cane beside the mouse. He wasn't fast enough to catch the hidden reaction on her face.

For some reason, she couldn't help but smile. "You're doing fine, Mary. Just a little longer."

"She didn't ask to be reassured."

"I know."

So, she was the one who needed the reassuring. He looked at her, almost wanting to touch this one spot on her neck that made her completely quiver last night.

"No one can find out."

"No one ever will."

"How do you know?"

"I haven't told anyone. You won't tell anyone." She shrugged her shoulders and finally glanced at him.

"You're sure of that?"

"You tell anyone and they'll think you've finally fallen in love with me, the woman who's your complete opposite. It'll be the romance novel of the century. You don't want that."

"No," he nodded his head and turned his attention to the MRI scan on the computer. "Then again, why wouldn't you say anything? Your dreams would have come true."

"My dreams," she sighed, "don't revolve around you, House."

"They did last night."

"Well, that was completely different."

"How?"

"We agreed to have uncomplicated sex. It was very good. That's it."

" 'Very good?' That's it?"

Cameron rolled her eyes and turned towards him. "Alright, it was one of the best nights I've had with any man. Happy?"

He couldn't help but smile. "Another satisfied customer."

"Yeah," she smiled herself. "I bet it feels strange to be on the giving end of that statement."

* * *

It was exactly one week since she'd slept with House that she sat on the bench in the locker room after taking a shower. She lightly touched the fading bruise lingering on her upper left thigh, the only physical reminder of that night.

Quickly, she put on her jeans and threw on her t-shirt. It was time to get out of here. Her bag over her shoulder and hair out of her face, she was ready to run out of the hospital as she opened the locker room door. There was one thing she wasn't expecting however, and that was House limping down the corridor.

He saw her slight hesitation, her startled look, and then her mind finally made up, her waiting for him.

"Running away from your sick people?"

"No, just ready to get home." She fell in step with him.

He didn't say anything else.

She shoved her bangs behind her left ear.

He pushed the blue handi-capped button beside the outside doors.

She decided to wait with him.

He pulled his backpack up higher over his shoulder so they could both walk through.

She put a hand over her mouth to cover her yawn.

He glanced over at her.

She finally glanced at him.

He wanted to kiss her.

She wanted to touch his face.

He wanted her to hold his cane.

She wanted to run away.

He held out his hand, an act to cover up his first impulse.

She halted and frowned, confused as ever about his motions.

He looked around them, making sure no one was around.

"Cross your heart?"

She opened her mouth slightly before fighting the smile.

"Hope to die?"

"Stick a needle in your eye?"

This was the only way to end it. It was the only way they could end it. She almost didn't want to, but she knew he didn't want her. Who knew? Maybe after time, she'd change her mind.

She reached out her hand and let it fall into his, feeling the shock she hadn't felt too often. With a firm shake, she nodded her head, and walked, not ran, away.

* * *


	7. Almost fitting

She wasn't going to let her feelings for House show. Another two weeks and her goal had been successful. Soon, she quit hearing about House and his mystery "happy flu." Soon, she could look at him without longing hiding behind her sometimes green eyes. If only he'd left her alone.

* * *

"I need to talk to you, House."

"Crap, you're not late, are you?"

"What?" She sat down in the chair by his desk. The sigh of relief from his lips was surprising to her. Then it hit her. "God, no."

"Well, when women say they need to talk and it's been about a month since the last time they had sex, men tend to think the worst."

"And that would be the worst thing?"

"Uh, duh."

"Anyways," she leaned forward on her elbows. "What do you know about Jonas Winthrop?"

"He's an arrogant son of a bitch kid who wouldn't let me cut him in the MRI line. Why? He asked you out, right? You said you needed more time. And I bet he smiled and said he understood and it nearly melted your heart at how sweet and understanding he was. What happened to no more dating colleagues?"

She didn't almost hate it when he was right. She absolutely hated it. "He's not a bad guy."

"Then why are you asking my permission? We're not dating."

"I know that. I just-."

"What?" He stood and grabbed his cane, suddenly annoyed. "Wanted some great Housian insight? Waste my time? The kid's got psycho player written on his forehead in flashing yellow lights."

She stayed seated in the chair and watched go stand by his glass door.

"I didn't come for permission. I just wanted to talk like friends, like we've been doing for a while. I thought we could at least be that. Sorry for making the assumption you could act like an adult."

She didn't look at him as she walked out, her heart almost sinking to her gut in painful beats.

* * *

He pretended not to watch as Jonas Winthrop lightly touched her hand as he showed her something in a file she was holding on the other side of the nurses' station in the clinic. He didn't care as Whaleman pressed into her side and she didn't fight it.

"Alice Walters? Giddyup, it's your turn!"

* * *

Another week passed without him speaking to her, at least in his mind, he was the one not talking to her. It wasn't hard. It didn't hurt him. It simply was like it always had been. And then it wasn't.

She didn't say anything when the elevator doors opened and he was leaning against the wall with his flaming cane in right hand. She did get in and wait for the doors to meet without looking at him. It was childish and immature, what they were doing. It didn't stop them though.

He wondered if she was going on her date with Whaleman. Her white strapless, knee-length dress clung to her still new curves. Her blonde hair was swept away from her face cascading down her bare back in soft waves. She was simply beautiful and he wouldn't deny that.

There was no reason to keep pace with him and so she didn't. Already five minutes late for her date with Jonas, she nearly power walked to her vehicle. It might be why she nearly rolled her ankle when she heard his voice.

"You look nice, Cameron."

He didn't stop after he'd said it, which left her standing alone in the middle of the parking lot. A frown beginning to form, she began walking again. Those words would be on her mind throughout the night.

* * *

"Why'd you say it?"

He rubbed his eyes and then leaned against the door frame. Her hair was damp from the drizzling rain, her dress clung carelessly to ever inch of her pale body, and her eyes were focused solely on him. It was unnerving, to be honest.

"Say what?"

"That I looked nice. Why'd you say it?"

"It was the truth. What are you doing here in the rain? You know you're going to get sick."

She couldn't say anything. Crossing her arms over her chest, she nearly laughed as she shook her head. What had she come here for? Everything she wanted, he didn't want to give. She realized she hadn't changed her mind, and he hadn't changed his. It was fruitless, as always.

There was silence between them with the soft pattering of rain hitting the roof, the entrance door, the outside road, and even falling from the few shrubs by the sidewalk. A loud crack of thunder startled her and she took a step back.

"Sorry for coming so late."

"Cameron!" He yelled to her departing figure. She was holding the door handle that would give way to the fury of Mother Nature. "Let me get you a jacket."

When he finally pulled one out of his closet and walked back into his living room, he saw her standing awkwardly by the sofa. It had never crossed his mind how she almost fit there. He needed to quit thinking about her in her apartment, in her office, in her car, in his office, in his apartment.

"Here, don't want you to call in sick and have Cuddy find out I let you get pneumonia."

"Thanks, I'll give it back to you in the morning."

She looked up at him as she pulled it closer around her. "You were right. Well, not entirely."

"Yeah?"

"He was alright at first. Then he felt me up when he walked me back to my apartment and nearly threw me into the wall with our kiss. I had to beat him off with my purse to get him to go."

"Whaleman is psycho. You…alright?"

Nodding her head casually, she said, "Thanks, again."

"Just don't tell anyone I did something sort of nice, huh?"

"I don't think anyone would believe me anyways."

He held the door open for her as the rain began to pick up heft and the wind thought to become stronger. He was caught off guard as her lips captured his in a brief moment. It wasn't a deep kiss like they'd shared before. It wasn't chaste and empty. The rain off her face gently transferred to his lips in a simple kiss that left him speechless as she ran down the few steps to the car that would take her away.

It was then that he knew. He almost liked her. And that was the second worst possible thing.

* * *

A/N: Soooo, will they or won't they? We'll find out next chapter. And I have made up my mind about who dies...and yes, someone will die. I know, I almost...ALMOST changed my mind, but I held firm. Anyways, we've got a little bit to go before it ends. So, thanks everyone. 


	8. Almost dating

He found the jacket hanging on the back of his chair in his quiet office. Not even glancing to see the numbers furiously finishing their charting, he gently picked up his jacket, able to still smell the light perfume she'd been wearing last night. After laying it on his desk, he walked out onto his balcony and leaned over the edge. The gray skies threatened more rain and his mind was brewing something as well.

* * *

If he hadn't been such an ass, it would have been harder. She refused his second offer of the afternoon with a firm no and tried to leave the lab. He stepped in her path and wouldn't let her pass. 

"I thought we had a good time."

"No, you had a good time. I really don't think we have much in common."

"Oh, come on. This doesn't have anything to do with your crush on that doctor, does it?"

"I don't have a crush on anyone. Would you get out of my way?"

"Whatever," Whaleman scoffed. "I don't see what you women see in him."

"I am _very_ agile with my cane. It's a big turn on."

"Dr. House!"

House sized the man up. "Whaleman," he finally said.

Jonas frowned and Cameron saw her chance to escape. "I was just coming to ask you your opinion."

"G-string is fine for next time."

"House!" She reddened and physically pulled him out of the lab into the hallway before they began walking.

"That was uncalled for."

"Whaleman was harassing you. Thought you wanted me to save you. Don't all the young'uns want that?"

"I don't need, nor do I want rescuing."

"Sure, that's what you say now.

They'd made it to the small conference room where her smaller office was located in the corner. He followed her in, silently thinking it'd be another ten years before she got the big office like he had.

"What do you want?"

He looked at her and contemplated again whether he wanted to take this leap. He'd almost tried with Cuddy, though really, it didn't count. He never did things half-heartedly. It was all or nothing. Which one did he dare take?

"I wanted to give you props for holding out so long."

"What are you talking about?"

He sat down on the edge of her desk, not even sure why he wanted to bring it up. He should be the one burying it with dirt and pouring cement over it.

"You kissed me last night."

"Oh." She replied quietly more to herself than him. "That-House I shouldn't have done that. You must think…. The night was just hectic, you know?"

Her face felt like it was burning in toasty Hell. Her heart was pounding and her mouth was suddenly eating cotton. She had to get over this though. There wasn't any room for being a silly girl again.

"So you didn't mean it?"

"What?" She shook her head. "No, I didn't. I know you aren't interested-."

"I am."

The cotton finally got to her. A few long seconds faded away before she could even think again.

"You…are?"

"We can start small. Drinks, tonight, at say 9:30?"

"I…," she had to blink, "no."

* * *

He sat on his sofa, not watching the t.v. even though he was staring directly at it. Half past 12, there was nothing much to do. His mind replayed the Cameron conversation. What had he done wrong? Nothing. Had he misread her? No way. So what was it? There was no denying that she wasn't the exact same woman she'd been when she resigned. However, there was no way she'd changed so dramatically in just a few months, or actually, almost a year. 

She still had something for him. She kissed him. They'd had sex. He was still crippled. He was still…lovely in his own way. Why would she say no? The only reason he was dwelling on the subject was because he couldn't figure it out. Without having an answer, he flipped the t.v. off and decided to sleep it off. He'd know by morning.

* * *

"How could you say no?" 

The question was out of his mouth before her door closed behind him. He watched Wilson pull away from where he stood over Cameron's shoulder, and saw her look up like a woman caught in the act. There was that jab of annoyance he was becoming increasingly familiar with.

"Did I interrupt a neediness intervention?"

"I'll just get back to you later, okay?"

"Sure, Wilson."

The two men shared looks as the oncologist walked out. The looks said 'we'll talk about this later,' and 'you're damn right.'

"What can I do for you?" She knew exactly what she could.

"Don't play coy." He knew she knew.

"House," she sighed and lowered her pen.

"Cameron," he said as he leaned on his cane.

"Why do you care? You've made it pretty clear many times you don't want to be with me."

It was the truth and she knew he was trying to come up with an answer that wouldn't back him into a corner. She leaned back, folding her arms because she had won. Now, he would have to prove himself and damn if she didn't like this side.

"So?"

"That's your answer? 'So?'"

They stared at each other over her desk. The clock on the wall ticked on into eternity. Finally, she didn't want there to be silence. She wanted to have her hopes crushed or realized. There wasn't much more sanity in her to leave things up in the air without knowing.

"Why would you want to date me?"

"You're half my age, stunningly beautiful, semi-smart, sex is already good-."

"No," she stated simply as she sat forward, needing to be closer to him. "You've used most of those reasons to _not_ be with me. What's changed?"

When he didn't say anything, she smiled sadly and shook her head. "I thought I needed neediness. Isn't that what you said? I essentially breathe it. And you? You're still broken, aren't you? Do you just want to prove yourself right? Not afraid you'll be wrong?"

And there it was. He was still messed up, broken. And her? That's what had got to him. She wasn't the same needy Cameron. She'd had a relationship with someone who wasn't badly broken. There had been a realization on her part about what she actually needed. It was something he'd seen her grapple and fight against. That's what made the difference.

"I won't be Chase. We can do this, or we won't. You might find your answers, but I don't know if you absolutely will."

"Do you like me?"

It was a question she didn't want to ask again. It made her throat burn and her nerves tingle in anxious fear. She had to know. If she was going to have her heart shattered, it had to be for a reason.

He didn't want to answer it again. This time it was hard. He'd be putting himself on the stand, open and naked. He wouldn't be able to hide anymore. Sighing, he made sure she was focused on him so he'd never have to say it again.

"Yes. Now can we go have drinks?"

"No."

"No?" He raised his eyebrows. "I just-!"

"Dinner. Tomorrow at 7." She stood with file in hand, eyes solely on him. "Be ready."

* * *

A/N: So I work on Tuesdays so I'm gonna be missing House...and Bones. but I knew Bones was on FOD. I was about to stroke out bc I'd have to wait a few days to watch House. Then I find House on FOD. I was so happy. I mean...H to the double P Y happy. I'm such a dork. Anyways, sorry for the random talk. Definitely more H/C to come. 


	9. Almost kisses

She checked her make-up for the tenth time in the past five minutes. Her dark jeans were new, low, tight. The black t-shirt she wore was clean and pressed. To finish the simple ensemble off, her tennis shoes were stark white with bold black slashes on the sides. The alarm sounded on her phone and she sighed deeply into the mirror. Do or die.

* * *

Without thinking, he got off his motorcycle and began walking towards the apartment. He was surprised as she walked out of the building looking like an incognito model on a shopping run. She'd only told him to dress comfortably. He was almost embarrassed in the fact that they matched.

"Hey," she smiled at him.

"Hey yourself."

She shook her head as he held out a helmet for her and instead, dangled her keys in the near dark. "I'll have to drive."

"Where are we going?" he asked suspiciously.

She shook her head and fought a laugh. "You'll see."

"Whoa, whoa, whoa, kidnapping was not what I had in mind."

"I am _not_ kidnapping you. I just want this to be a surprise. Can't I have that?"

There was a moment when she put a hand on her hip that he almost didn't mind having her be the boss.

"Just remember, I have a cane I'm not afraid to use it."

"Oh, you'll get over it. Come on, our date is just beginning."

* * *

As they parked on the sparse grass, he couldn't help but wonder why she would choose here, a drive-in movie. He eyed her as she pulled the keys from the ignition and let her elbow rest in the open window.

"You're serious?"

"About what?"

"Sweet innocent Cameron likes drive-in movies?

She could've stopped the smile, but why should she? This was going to be a good night, and she would enjoy it.

"Do you want something to eat?"

"You did promise dinner, though I doubt we're going to find fine cuisine in the hotdog stand."

* * *

There was pressure, this they wouldn't deny. But Frankenstein somehow made it easier. She tried counting the number of smiles she saw, but after two, she gave up since she was missing most of the horror film. Resting her head back, she wondered if she could reach over and cover his hand. And then she didn't.

For some reason, he couldn't look at her directly. He kept sneaking glances from the corner of his eyes, but other than that, nothing. He hadn't realized he was suddenly seventeen again. His legs stretched out, he sighed as Frankenstein had a meltdown. There was a moment when she leaned towards him that he almost touched her. And then it passed.

* * *

Slight disappointment ran through her mind as the credits began rolling. What had she expected? For them to make out and feel each other up in her car? To talk and laugh together? The only thing to happen was him helping to clean up their pile of trash in the car.

The red and white paper boat which had held two corndogs fell out of her hands to land by his seatbelt button. She reached for absently and found his hand holding the boat. Something made her want to let go, but something else still wanted to touch anything that was him.

He let it go into her hands and then handed her the rest of his trash. What he wanted to do was kiss her like they were teenagers, and why he didn't do it, he didn't know.

* * *

The dark night seemed darker considering a new moon was out. The lights offered momentary swatches of sight as they passed under a few bare trees.

"We're starting small."

"Yep."

"Dinner and a movie…."

"Yep."

They reached the building and she hesitated, not sure if he should come up even if she wanted him to. When she looked up at him, she knew her answer. She didn't want the sex alone. She wanted the hand holding, the kissing, the banter, the morning after, the night before, and the love.

"This is good."

"Yep."

"Would you stop saying yep?"

"Fine, boss."

There was silence as she held her keys in her right hand and pushed a lock of hair back with her left. She had been so sure she could do this, but after tonight, her confidence was slightly shaken. He hadn't kissed her, talked to her, or touched her like he wanted to be with her.

"I need to ask you something, House."

"What?" he asked warily, pretty sure he should start limping away now.

"Are you sure you want to do this? I mean, you didn't seem like-."

Maybe that's what he was waiting for. A falter in her step that showed him she wasn't sure either. He kissed her fully on her lips, sure that what he was doing would not end well. Pulling slightly back, he knew he should stop this foolishness. He looked at her startled face, asking for him and only him. It would be too much for both of them.

She didn't wait for his lips to find hers again. Reaching up, she pulled him closer to her and ran her tongue along his lower lip. He'd break her heart. There was no doubt in that, but she could live in denial. She'd been doing that almost her whole life. Why change it now?

"Do you want me to prove how much this date wasn't a disaster?" he nearly mumbled as he pressed her farther into the wall.

"As long as you don't say anything about neediness or being broken."

"I won't say a word."

* * *

A/N: So...I almost didn't write about the date because for me...it's too much filler. I mean, I coulda just said assume it went alright, but that might not be fair. Anyways, heh, sorry but House or Cameron will die. Hate to say it, but yep, there it is. I started this as a NHEA, and while I'm tempted to change it...I have to stick to my guns. But I am sorry lol.


	10. Almost ending

He doesn't want to answer the question she's asked on the other side of the island counter.

"It doesn't matter," he finally replies.

She bites her lip and shakes her head in something close to disbelief. It's nearly August, over a full year since she'd thrown herself back into Princeton Plainsboro, and nearly six months since she'd gotten herself into the messy affair with Gregory House.

"That's just it," she says with just a hint of hoarseness as her throat begins to burn. "It should."

* * *

It had been six nights of sleeping alone, seven days of quick retorts, four lunches eaten alone, and two dinners gone to catastrophe in the blink of an eye. 

She almost wanted to wallow in her pain, but she'd be damned if she'd act like a rejected junior being stood up for prom. She could think about it, dwell on it, try to act on it. But the answer she wanted so desperately for him to give, would most likely break her spirit. This way, she'd have a reason for leaving, and he'd have his reason to not be with her.

* * *

Things were spiraling down at such a rapid speed, that he wasn't even sure how far they had till they'd reach bottom. He swallowed his Vicodin as he opened his cell phone. It wasn't her. 

"Yeah?"

"I was just thinking that you might, oh I don't know, want to eat lunch with your girlfriend."

"Aww, Wilson, I thought we graduated to dinners?"

"House, she's been eating lunch by herself for the past week. What's going on?"

Hesitating, he almost laid it out on the line. He caught himself.

"Wait! What? I can't hear you! I must be losing connection because I don't want to talk to you!"

He hung the phone up with a snap. Great, now Wilson was in it. He could hear the musings now of why he was intentionally sabotaging his and Cameron's relationship.

* * *

She didn't know why she had to go see him after she got off work every night. The way things had been going between them, she would think she'd want to stay away to give him his needed space. Then again, she'd been doing this too long. He would stop talking to her, teasing her, eventually not even acknowledge her. And then it would pass and he'd make a funny quip, whisper in her ear at work, kiss her without doubt. 

Knocking on the door, she waited for him to answer. She didn't have to; she could make her way in with the spare key she'd long since found. Tonight was different however, since this was the first time he'd made her feel like a stranger.

Before she knew it, they were face to face. Unsurprisingly, he didn't say anything, but he looked at her with that look he only gave her. It made her heart jump like there was hope. Fleeting as it was, it meant something.

"Did you eat already?"

He took his hand off the door and began to turn away. "Yep."

His back to her wasn't something new. She walked in, closed the door, and stood there as he put a plate into the sink. Her rage, disappointment, annoyance, fear, collided in a single moment. Her footsteps were so heavy, she was surprised she could even walk. Vaguely she could feel her keys slip out of her hand onto the small coffee table. When she finally made it to the kitchen, it surprised her she'd actually made it that far.

"What do I do?"

Playing dumb might work. It would put off this discussion for awhile at least. "About what?"

"You can stand there and pretend you have no idea and drag this out, or you can just get it over with."

A tense moment passed. "Please, House."

"What did you think was going to happen?" he asked gruffly. "We're two totally different people. I'm not changing into a brighter, patient man."

"I don't care about that."

"That's what you say, now, because you think you know what love is. You have this fantasy that you haven't let go of, and I won't fit into it. I'm the surly bastard who's going to miraculously understand life and appreciate the little things because some young girl got into his heart?"

"Shut up!" She was tired of this excuse. "You keep saying that and...oh, I'm just so tired of it. You _are_ a mean bastard, and trust me, I know I will never change that. I wish you would just get over it! Quit thinking if I don't change you I'm going to leave!"

"That's not what I think!"

"Then why do this? Why push me away for weeks and then suddenly come back to me? Why are you giving me the ammunition to break up with you? I've been trying so hard to make you acknowledge me, but you don't."

"That's how I am, Cameron! I don't need people the way some do. I'm fine by myself, and I like being by myself most of the time. Where's the problem?"

"So, I'm just a person?" Her mouth twitched in anger or sadness.

"Yes, you are."

She breathed deeply and couldn't take her eyes off him. All this time when she'd thought she'd made a little difference in him, made her mark on him, and she hadn't. She wasn't anything more than a stranger he'd bump into on the street. Had she expected more?

He didn't want to take it back. What he wanted to do was explain it better. He didn't want to be there again, attached to a woman he knew needed more. She would stay with him, he was sure, but only because of obligation and guilt.

"Do you," her voice nearly caught. "Do you still want this?"

He didn't want to answer the question she'd asked on the other side of the island counter.

"It doesn't matter," he finally replied.

She bit her lip and shook her head in something close to disbelief. It was nearly August, over a full year since she'd thrown herself back into Princeton Plainsboro, and nearly six months since she'd gotten herself into the messy affair with Gregory House.

"That's just it," she said with just a hint of hoarseness as her throat began to burn. "It should."

There could have been something for him to say as she pushed away from the counter and grabbed her keys off the coffee table before making her way silently out of his apartment. As the front door closed quietly, he raised his head to the ceiling, listening to nothing but him. It did matter. It always had.

* * *

A/N: Yeah...sorry for the long wait. There's been...agh, mess to deal with. Anyways, we went straight from first date to near break up didn't we? I'm gonna say they hooked up in April...finally started dating in mid May, and it's been rocky ever since then. Well, thanks again for reading and maybe steeling yourself for the dramatic ending coming in a few chaps. 


	11. Almost melting

She hid them this time, the dark circles from a restless night. The questions she'd be asked would be more than she could handle this day, and so her mask had been dusted out of the closet once more.

"Hey, Mark? This is Lis," she quietly said into her phone. "What's going on now?"

She could barely say anything as her brother explained what had happened since this morning with their mother.

"Are you sure? I mean, there are--. Yeah."

She sighed and leaned on her desk while rubbing her forehead in true House-like fashion.

"No, I can be there this evening if I leave now. No, I know it's not life threatening but I-. Okay, Mark, I'm coming, so deal with it. I'll see you later."

* * *

"You've...you've got-got to be kidding me. What the hell is the matter with you!? No!" Wilson stood and ran a hand through his hair. 

"No! What were you thinking? I told you that-that-she was-and you didn't-and now... Well, the only left to do is go talk to her. I mean, she won't want to listen to you so we'll have to ambush her, but still. You'll ask for forgiveness for being an ass on your knees and hope she'll take you back. What the hell is wrong with you!?"

He looked up at the all powerful Wilson with his mouth slightly slack. For the first time, he was in awe.

* * *

As a doctor, she knew death. 

_The hand she reached for was her brother's, and in that instant, she almost didn't want it to be his._

She'd breathed death.

_Only one day without her grumpy doctor, but it was one day she wanted him most._

And death?

_When_ _had her life turned for the worst?_

It had just breathed her mother.

_For the first time in a long time, she held her brother, with no one to hold her._

Time of death was 21:22.

* * *

"So, I haven't seen you in ages. What's new?" 

"Mark..."

"Lis," he stopped and covered his mouth. "I can't...right now."

She watched that almost long lock of brilliant dark hair nearly run into his eyes. He'd never looked so tired before.

"I just...want to know how my little sis is doing."

"I'm fine."

"Really? You don't seem fine. What about you and that doctor?"

'That doctor,' she thought in her exhausted mind. What was between them now? She should have been afraid that she didn't know in the slightest.

"It's over, I think. He's not very forthcoming. He can't trust anyone. I just thought that maybe... I don't know. It's complicated."

"Sounds complicated." He looked over at his little sister and put his arm around her shoulders. "Need me to straighten him out? 'Cause you know I will."

It was strange to laugh, or try to at least. "You, hit a cripple?"

* * *

"What are you doing here?" 

He kept looking through the glass at his former patient. Cuddy wasn't a priority right now.

"House...you did everything you could."

There was nothing to say to that, and so he didn't. If he was honest, he would admit that he was thinking about Cameron as he stared at the almost dead man. She'd left him, or in her mind, he'd been leaving her this whole time.

"House, what did you do?"

"You were there when-."

"Cameron. What did you do to Cameron?" She should have known better than to think she'd get an answer. "She left here in a hurry. Whatever you did, fix it. I don't care how you do it, just get it over with."

"I'm taking advice from a 40 year old non-virgin scantily clad woman?"

"No, as an employer I'm saying get this worked out. Either you two break up and one of you leaves the hospital, or you become Bonnie and Clyde."

"Is that what we were supposed to be?"

"Excuse me?"

"Me and you."

"I don't know. It doesn't even matter. "

She walked away with arms folded, and he pushed himself from the wall. Slowly, he made his way down the corridor listening to the solid thunk and step of him.

* * *

It was nearly four in the morning when she began to trudge her way up the stairs to her apartment door. When the small elevator doors opened to her floor, she nearly missed the silver wrapped Hershey's kisses trailing down the hallway. It never crossed her mind they were for her until she turned the corner and saw where they ended - and who they ended with. 

"House?"

Slowly, he opened his eyes and began to focus on her figure standing over him. She looked tired.

"Figured the only way I could get you was by tempting you by following the chocolate littered road."

She couldn't help but look behind her to see the road in its glory again. Her mind couldn't quite understand what he'd done, or why he'd done it.

"Why did you do this?"

"Where'd you go?"

"Why do you care?"

"Were you scared?"

"Does it look like it?"

"Honestly?"

This game of theirs made her want to wring his neck. It was so uncharacteristic of him to do this, but in the same sense, it wasn't. He always called her the romantic. She didn't have the guts to tell him he was the die hard romantic. Only a romantic would have a Hersheys trail leading to her door.

"House," she adjusted the bag over her shoulder. "I'm very tired. I can't argue with you right now, nor do I want to."

Reaching over him, she placed her key in the lock.

"You didn't say goodbye."

"What?"

He raised himself with his cane and stood so close to her, she couldn't turn around to face him.

"You ran away. At my apartment the other day and at work."

"I didn't run away."

She turned the key more forcefully than she needed to. He noticed.

"What did you expect from me?"

"What did you expect from me?" She asked in response.

The silence started and he couldn't break it. Her breathing was becoming intense, her muscles were tense,and her fingers were trembling. He didn't know what was the right thing to say. A lie would keep him safe. The truth would knock him off his even keel.

His non-answer was her answer. She turned the knob, done with waiting. And then she heard his voice, a whisper of a whisper.

"Wait."

"I've been waiting for months, House. And I...I can't wait any more. There's just too much now."

"This isn't easy for me."

"I know." She pushed the door open. "What makes you think it is for me, though?"

The door shut and he couldn't move. His hand absently went into his blazer pocket and found a handful of almost melting chocolate. He was stupid. He was stupid to lay down the chocolate trail. He was stupid to wait for her at her door. He was stupid to think he could get away with it. He was stupid for finally realizing, he wasn't about to give up.


	12. Almost safe

He hadn't told her how bad it was when they were together. The headaches started on a Monday five long weeks ago, and the side pains had begun soon after. By then, they'd barely been speaking to each other; or if he was objective, he'd say he'd barely spoken to her. But he didn't need objectivity now that they were over, and it was his own fault.

It had happened before, a warning sign if there had ever been one. Of course, two years ago he'd just inserted the catheter. This time, the catheter wasn't helping. Taking a deep breath, he sat down heavily on his bed. The dizziness abated slightly, but the nausea wasn't going anywhere. Gripping his right side, he tried to lie down on the dark and soft covers. Instead of grabbing his vicodin vial, he slowly pushed it off the side table.

* * *

Six days ago, she'd left him alone in her hallway. Now, she was going to have to face him down the long hospital corridor as she was heading to clinic. He looked at her, and not once did he take his eyes off of her; and so neither did she.

Then she realized it. He was leaning too much on his cane. The bags under his eyes were dark and pronounced. There was a slight tightening at the corners of his lips as he stepped even on his good leg.

"Are you alright?" She could hear herself asking.

He didn't pause in his stride. "Come by my office around three."

She turned when he passed her and raised an eyebrow. He was in pain. If she had known how much, she might have admitted him right then. But she didn't know, and that was her fault.

* * *

"Well?"

He didn't say anything as she put her hands in her lab coat in fake frustration. She didn't sit down. Her mouth had that set look meaning she was here to accomplish something. Hopefully, she wouldn't if he was good enough.

"Where's the love for your old man?"

"I've got an appointment with a psoriasis patient in fifteen minutes."

"And?"

"If you're just going to sit in your chair and be an ass then I'm-."

"Here."

Pulling the brown bag from his cabinet, he gingerly laid it in his lap. He fought the urge to cough as his throat was suddenly dry. Nevermind his throbbing side, entire body was beginning to tingle at the thought he just might have her back because she still loved him.

She eyed him cautiously as she made her way around his desk to stand in front of his sitting body. He was pale she noted with a frown. Carefully, she reached for the bag as he raised it to her.

The crinkle of paper bags had always been comforting for some reason, and while she knew he didn't know that, it spooked her. Something was not right.

"What is it?" she asked a little breathlessly as his fingers caught hers and wouldn't let go.

The effort it took to stand almost showed in his features, but he was careful to mask the pain like always. He couldn't let go of her slender fingers, and he couldn't stop staring at those eyes which were always confused when it came to him.

"Cameron..."

She couldn't stop. Her heart began to beat in her ears. Her throat threatened to dry. Her anger at him wouldn't stay. Her want for him wouldn't go. Her tears wanted to fall. Seven months had boiled down to them standing inches apart with one crumpled brown paper bag between them, in silence.

"My mother died."

The statement didn't faze him.

"What happened?"

"Routine appendectomy went wrong. She bled out. That's where I went last Friday." She didn't realize her fingers had grabbed his. "I didn't run."

She finally took the bag out of his hand and opened it. Puzzlement crossed her features as she pulled the black Rolling Stones t-shirt out.

Before she could ask the question he knew she'd ask, he changed his mind. He couldn't do this, especially when he was sure he was on the downhill side of his vicodin addiction. She'd ask too many questions, fret over nothing, hover like a hawk. And then he changed his mind again. He wasn't afraid of anything.

"I can't wear it anymore. Smells like a basket of fruit from your shampoo. Not exactly my scent."

"Oh," she said limply as she began to put the folded shirt back into the bag. She wasn't sure what she'd been expecting.

"There's something else." He reached into his pocket and pulled out the lone key on the silver key on a slim white shoe string.

In that moment, she might have died and not known it. Time stopped while everything became hazy. She'd been waiting so long, but could she go back?

"I'm...not the best boyfriend. I know it. But you put up with it; and that's more than I can ask for. And you can take this key, move some of your stuff over, or walk out right now and we can call this done and dead."

He'd fought for her, he was still fighting. Was that all she needed to know? She figured it was, because the moment he'd pulled out that key, she knew she'd stay with him. What she wanted most was him, and he was finally giving in to her.

Her lips were on his before he could blink.

* * *

He woke with a start. His chest was on fire, his leg was screaming in agony, and he had to use the restroom. Sweat began to bead on his forehead as he made the long walk to the bathroom. Sitting hard on the seat, he swallowed a vicodin and lowered his aching head. The euphoria of having Cameron in his arms again was beginning to fade with reality slowly, and not very gently, sinking its claws back in.

Four minutes and he was still quiet in the bathroom. She sat up as that strange feeling of wrong surged up her spine.

"House?"

Six Mississippi's and still no answer. She got out of the bed and went to the bathroom door.

"Gregory House!"

The moan on the other side broke through her senses and she in turn, nearly broke through the door.

"House! What happened?"

"Cam..."

Time stood still as she ran to the phone and then frantically ran back to check his vitals again. Time whistled patiently as she was told the ambulance was on its way. Time quit as she held him in her arms and cursed the vicodin spilled over the floor.

"Damn it, House. Why didn't you tell me? Why?"

Almost three days. Three days she didn't see the signs. For three days she had lived with him in this apartment not once had she cared enough to notice how sick he had become. Almost three days.

* * *

A/N: Oh man, guys. We are so CLOSE to the ending. We are just _almost, almost_ there! Two or Three more chaps to go... 


	13. Almost mean

She didn't want to be in this position again. She sat in one of the waiting chairs and leaned forward on her elbows. Her eyes closed as she fought the panic slowly rising in her gut. She'd lost one man already to something doctors and hospitals couldn't save him from. If she lost another...she wasn't sure she'd recover. Where had she heard something like that before?

* * *

From somewhere in the dark, he heard the furious swishes of pen making contact with paper. His mouth insanely dry, he tried to swallow and barely accomplished the feat. Faintly, he could hear the familiar beeping from a machine in a patient's room. Whose room was he in? 

"I swear, I'm going to kill him. I'll just pop this pen right into his carotid and he'll be gone. I swear!"

Her voice cut through everything else.

"Why the hell am I in the hospital?"

She looked up in surprise and threw the papers on the floor. He was awake.

"Are you feeling alright?" she asked as she emptied the space between them and let her hand cup the side of his face.

He frowned. "I'm fine. What the hell happened to me?"

She straightened, folded her arms, and began to pace.

"_You_, the almighty House, have been drowning yourself in vicodin for years! Your left kidney called it quits! You're lucky you still have your liver, though the doctors say you have to get off the vicodin because the damage you've done to it already, while not life threatening yet, is irreversible.."

"Well, I'm not dead. So, can you stop being mad?"

Her shoulders slumped slowly as she exhaled. She turned around, leaned against the glass wall, and watched him. Nothing had changed. Everything had changed. It scared her to death to think about it.

"You were in more pain than usual. You were holding your left side and you didn't go to the bathroom often. I'm a doctor. I should - ."

"Do you _know_ who you're dating? I didn't want you to see it because you'd have made a big deal about it."

"Because it is a big deal! Look at you! You could've died!"

"I didn't!"

"I know!"

"Then why are you yelling at me!"

"Because I can! Get over it!"

"You get over it!"

"You get over it!"

"I am over it!"

"Well, good for you!" She yelled as she walked out of his room.

* * *

"You know that she almost killed you?"

House spooned another portion of jell-o into his mouth while he nodded.

"Nothing new."

Wilson also nodded his head in agreement as they watched the telenovela on the television.

"Guess not."

"It wasn't a big deal."

"Yeah, you almost dying is pretty routine."

"Exactly. You understand it. Why can't she?"

"We're pretty much the same person, two halves of a whole. She's an outsider."

"Ha." House looked at Wilson. "So, you slept with Cuddy, then. Eewww."

Wilson looked at House and smiled. "Well, I guess I slept with Cameron too. That's not eeww."

House pointed his spoon at Wilson. "Yeah, this whole 'two halves of a whole' just ended."

"I thought we were having fun."

"Yeah, you're having a little too much."

There was a bit of silence as Wilson couldn't quit smiling at House's suddenly sour face.

* * *

"Where do you think you're going?"

He stopped suddenly and rolled his eyes. Slowly, he turned around to face his keeper.

"My office?"

She rested her hands on either side of the door frame.

"Cuddy's office?"

She pulled her hands down to rest on her hips.

"Clinic?"

She folded her arms over her chest and shook her head.

"You are on bed rest, House. So, get back in bed before I strap you down."

"Promise?"

"House."

"Cameron, you can't keep me here. I'm going crazy!"

"It's been four hours!"

"And?"

Frustrated, she walked into his room and kept walking until her knees nearly touched his. She took one more step, forcing him to take one back closer to his bed.

"Rest, House."

"I could be doing something productive right now."

Another small step and she nearly landed on his toes, so he moved back.

"You never do anything productive."

"Saving lives is not productive?"

The next step she took made him meet the bed, which he nearly lost his balance over.

"I can't lose you. Not after everything else, not you too."

He couldn't keep his eyes off of her. Her hair was almost messy, clothes nearly unkempt, and her eyes all but tired.

"I knew I wouldn't die. I had it managed."

"Do you know how stupid you are?" she asked breathlessly. "I don't _ever_ want to feel like I'm holding onto nothing. You don't know what it's like to be utterly helpless, House."

She lowered her head and grabbed his large hands. "Whatever we started as...it's not the same now." She looked up into his stormy eyes. "If you leave, what am I supposed to do? Pick up the pieces? Crack a joke? I can't. I'm not the girl who moves on with her life seamlessly. I stay stuck in the same spot, and I grieve and hurt where no one can touch me."

He wasn't dead. He had no plans on dying; but she was right. He could have died. He still might die, though the chances were slim. Looking into her worried face, he knew she needed reassurance. When did she not?

He gripped her hands back. "I love you."

"That's the absence of vicodin talking and it's not getting you off the hook."

"No." He forced her to look up at him with his left hand. He was terrified at this moment. Who wouldn't? He'd only loved one woman until now, and that hadn't ended so well. He couldn't possibly think he could make it work with Cameron; but he wanted to try. That had to be worth something.

"I'm going to go into withdrawal soon and I'll say things I don't mean, or things I whole-heartedly mean. But whatever I say, I love you...damn it."

Her heart stopped for one beautiful moment. He loved her. The man she never thought would ever love her, did. Her life was complete, though the total cliché-ness of it, made her want to laugh.

"Why the hell are you smiling? It's not funny."

She shook her head and ended up smiling into his shoulder so he wouldn't see. "I love you, House."

"Well," he waited until she raised her head and he could almost taste her lips. "I've known that since the moment you met me."

* * *

A/N: So, I may have lied. This chap...and the next is more just to back their relationship up...which is filler I guess. So, we actually have 3 more chaps now...or 4 if I go insande and write fastidiously and decide to include the epilogue. Sorry these are going to be longer chaps! And THANKS! 


	14. Almost dancing

He shivered violently, wondering when he would end up tearing his stitches. The sweat covering his body, dampened his sheets. The next bout of nausea swept over him and he made sure not to miss the trash can this time. One more hour and she'd be here. She'd see him at his worst...again. She'd feel sorry for him, and that made him grit his teeth in anger.

* * *

"Get out!" 

"House, I-."

"Get out! I don't want you in here!" He reached to his side and looked down. He'd blown his stitches finally.

She made to grab pack of gauze, but his hand around her slender wrist stopped her.

"L-leave m-me alone." He stuttered as his body rocked with another shudder.

"Dr. Cameron," a nurse touched her arm. "I think it's best if you give him privacy."

So, she looked at him as the nurse began to tend to his tear and he muttered something to the ceiling. All she wanted to do was hold his detoxing body. This was a different kind of pain. This was the pain of knowing he couldn't do this with her. She walked out then.

* * *

"Hey," she whispered into the near dark. 

"Hey," he said hoarsely as he felt her refreshing hand on his face. He leaned into it.

"How are you?" She gently began toying with his hair.

Groaning, he closed his eyes. Every part of him ached. He felt like he'd be sore for the next millenia. His head still pounded with every heart beat.

"How do you think?"

"Awful," she smiled softly. "Like you're going to murder all those doctors and nurses when you get your cane back?"

"Oh, it'll be a bloody massacre."

He could feel her hand caressing his head, then slowly falling down his tired face, and finally resting on his chest.

"How long?"

"Close to twelve days. You're through the worst, by far. Your counselor thinks you're making good progress."

"He's only seen me twice and I didn't even say anything."

"Well, he must have a thing for you then."

"Yeah, looks to me like the only thing he has things for would be The Thing." He sighed heavily. "I may have lost my witty sarcasm during this whole thing."

"Really? Then what am I doing here?"

"You're here 'cause you love me."

"Ah, that's right."

"Like you could forget."

She took his hand in both of hers and brought it close to her face. It'd been so long since she'd touched him like this.

"The almighty authorities are going to kick you out soon."

Quirking an eyebrow, she smiled. "You're going to let them?"

He smiled and let his finger caress her cheek. "Not a chance in Cuddy's hell."

"I missed you."

"I couldn't do it with you here. You know that?"

"I don't," she finally met his eyes. "I don't understand it, but yeah. I know."

Having been so long since she'd felt his warmth along the length of her body, she gingerly made her way to lay beside him.

He hissed through his teeth when she inadvertently bumped his right thigh.

"God, I'm sorry, House."

"No," he sighed, still gripping his thigh. "I'll make it."

Slowly and lightly, she sat up on the bed and covered his thigh with her hands. With controlled movements, she carefully began to massage his leg, hoping it would help.

"Better?"

He sighed again, this time not in pain. "Yes. Lie back down."

Lying on her side again, she let her hand rest on his heart, needing to know it was still strong.

"Is it bad? The pain?"

"It always was."

"You know what I mean."

"It's like the old pain, magnified by a thousand."

Cautiously, she tucked her head under his chin. "You can't get back on the vicodin."

"Yeah, well these new pain meds aren't exactly vicodin."

"Well, you're going to have to get over it because they're staying."

"You're such a pain."

"Yeah yeah yeah." She raised up on her elbow, his arm around her waist nearly not letting her. "But you love me anyways." She kissed him soundly, yearningly, and passionately, wanting him to lose his breath because he'd made her lose hers, though for different reasons.

"You know," he said as he began to let his hands run under her light pink shirt. "You can't kiss me like that and expect me to not need more."

"Your stitches, your leg, House." She didn't resist as his hands unclasped her bra.

The buttons on the front of her shirt were beginning to annoy him, but he finally undid the top one. He wanted her so bad. It'd been too long since he'd held her like this, and now they were surely on solid ground. This was love, no matter how much it frightened him.

"I'll get over it, Cameron."

* * *

He faintly felt her lips press against his stubbled cheek as she said something in the morning. He mumbled under his breath, and he could tell she smiled against his face. Then she was gone.

* * *

It was amazing how much had changed in one day. House had finally asked for her. He was off the vicodin, in rehab. They'd finally made love again. He hadn't taken back his words of love, which she was sure he would. She dropped her keys on the dresser before heading to the shower, knowing she'd have to fly back to the hospital to be back on time for work.

* * *

The sharp stab of pain woke him from his deep slumber. It lit his body on such intense fire, he had to grip the edges of the bed to keep from screaming. He didn't know how long she'd been gone, but she definitely wasn't here to help him now. 

Somehow, he reached for the call button located on the desk beside his rehab bed. His vision blurred and he nearly fell out of the bed.

"Cameron," he whispered as the orderly rushed into the room and his body fell to the floor while everything faded to black.

* * *

The eyewitnesses would always claim that the blue truck ran the red light. The driver, a twenty-four year old man coming home from a night of celebrating his brother's graduation, would always claim he couldn't remember. 

Of course, she'd get stuck at the longest stoplight on her way to the hospital. Quickly, she pinned her hair up in a bun. The light turned green and she waited for the maroon colored car in front of her to go.

"Come on," she said to no one.

Not even midway through the intersection, she saw movement out of the corner of her left eye. By then it was too late for her to do anything. Her eyes blinked reflexively and her foot stepped ineffectively on the brake.

She could see everything happening in slow motion as the truck collided on her side. They twirled, like lovers dancing some sort of wishful waltz or tragic tango. With wondrous force, her head hit the window, creating a serene spider web pattern. The twirl turned into a lift. Her hands, somehow firmly gripping the steering wheel, turned white. The lift shifted into a well choreographed flip. Sensation lost its meaning, and she knew that was bad.


	15. Almost acceptable

She'd been in one car accident during her teenage years. This was something different. The noiselessness of her surroundings may have scared her had adrenaline not been pumping through her battered body.

It was strange - seeing the people running towards the vehicles, but not hearing their footsteps; seeing the smoke rising from her car, but not hearing the hissing oil burning on broken parts; seeing the man flipped over in his truck in front of her, but not hearing his screams through his open mouth.

And then it rushed back in one second so brief that her ears popped. It was strange - hearing herself cry.

* * *

What woke him was the sound of hard shoes pacing on tile. The first word to come out of his mouth after he opened his eyes was, "damn."

House looked at the machines connected to him...again. "What happened to me now?"

"Everything's fine as far as all the scans go, tests go." Wilson shrugged.

"You've got your hands a mile deep in your pockets. Your hair's a mess. Your tie is crooked. And you're pacing."

House frowned in frustration. Something was definitely not right.

"It's Cameron. She's in surgery. The doctors..."

He didn't get halfway past 'in' that House had already made his way out of the bed and was walking past him.

* * *

"House, what are you doing?"

"Treating my tired, my poor, my downtrodden, or is it my hungry?" he responded while raising his pen in the air with right hand and holding a patient's file in his left hand near his chest.

Cuddy raised her eyebrows and blocked his entrance to exam room 2.

"Mr. Liberty, you're still a patient and in rehab."

"See, that's where your wrong. I got discharged exactly three hours and forty-two minutes ago wherein I immediately checked out of rehab too. Now out of my way."

"Why aren't you with her?" Cuddy asked forcefully.

He lowered his eyes and sighed loudly. "You're the fiftieth person to ask me that. There's nothing I can do. What does everyone expect me to do?" His voice raised. "Twiddle my thumbs and cry?"

"So, you're what? Going to hustle around the hospital like nothing is wrong?"

"Cuddy..." he faced the door dead on. "She's been on the table five hours, twenty-three minutes, and counting."

She slowly let her arm fall and took a step away from the door. After he'd closed the door, she briefly closed her eyes before gaining her composure again.

* * *

The recovery room came into his range of sight, and his pace quickened. When he saw the dark haired man sitting in the only chair in the room, he slowed. The man looked up and there was no mistaking the similar characteristics.

"You're her brother."

"Yeah, Mark. Are you a friend of Lis?"

"Greg House."

"Oh," Mark nodded in understanding, but didn't stand. He'd heard enough to not like the legend, and seen enough to wonder what she saw in him.

House took a few steps forward, never taking his eyes off her whole left leg in a cast, her abdomen no doubt covered with gauze, her left arm in a sling because of a broken clavicle. He looked at the cuts marring her once almost perfect features, the bottom lip that had scabbed over dead center, and the left side of her head which had met the window almost disastrously, now covered with gauze.

"I asked the doctors when she'll wake up. They said it could be tonight or a week. What do you think? I mean, I know you're the most messed up bastard doctor this side of the country, but apparently you know your stuff."

"Thanks." Instinctively, he reached for a Vicodin. Finding nothing, he looked down with a glimmer of a wry smile before feeling two hands shoving him into the wall.

"What the hell is wrong with you!? This is not funny! This is my sister!"

"I love her." He gauged the brother's reaction. "It's not funny. I know." He found his jacket free of massive hands.

"Sorry," Mark said as he rubbed his face. "I'm just..."

"I know. The doctors are right. She'll wake up when her body's recovered from everything."

He walked out after that, not sure what to do with himself, but satisfied she was alive and almost well.

* * *

He worked. He caught up on his charts. His three fellows kept looking at him out of the corner of their eyes, especially Thirteen.

That night, after Mark left, House turned the TV on with a glance towards her.

"Castaway? Nah, too much Wilson. 4400? Nah, too much alien conspiracy. Ah, America's Funniest Home Videos. Idiots."

Five minutes into the show, he clicked his tongue.

"You know, I hate the name Mark. Of all the things to name a kid, Michael, Jason, even Freddy, parents pick _Mark_? First, I have to deal with Stacy's Mark. We fight over her, da da da, and then I kick her to the curb. Now, I'm dealing with your brother Mark. We're fighting over you, da da da, and you're in a coma."

He leaned his head back before turning to look at her. Narrowing his eyes, he grabbed her hand. "If your dead husband was a Mark, it's _so _over."

* * *

She died later that night as he sat uncomfortably on the brink of nervous sleep; at least in the technical sense. Her heart stopped for fifty-seven seconds while he sat beside her. After the nurses and doctor had walked out with the equipment, he couldn't say anything.

In his mind, there was no way she would die. People survived massive vehicular accidents all the time. The best hospitals had the best doctors and treatments. Sometimes the facts didn't run with reality, however, and he didn't want to accept that.

A constant, steady mechanic beep hummed in his ears as he began to trace the slender fingers that had tried to grab onto him for so long. She wouldn't let this best her, he knew that. She would fight with all she had; but some people didn't survive after surgery. And the best hospital, doctors, and treatments, couldn't save everyone. He knew this better than anyone.

The almost silence which rang like a cacophony in his mind, might have been what destroyed his always solid reserve. He'd given the impression to the brother that she would be fine. He knew though, it was faulty. It was surreptitious. It was chance.

"We get one chance." He paused. "One lifetime, is all we get. I've spent most of mine being...angry. And the rest of it being miserable."

This time he paused because he didn't know if he wanted to say it now. Saying it now would mean this was real, and it would mean accepting the worst obvious fate.

"I can take being alone. I've been alone for a long time. But...I don't want to be alone anymore, Cameron. Wake up."

* * *

A/N: Sorry!!!! I've been a tad bit under the weather for the past week. Anyways, thanks for reviews guys! Happy Holidays everyone!! 


	16. Almost awake

He heard his name whispered in the air. It wasn't enough to fully wake him. He felt the gentle pressure on his upper arm. A low mutter escaped his lips. He nearly leaned into the hand as it rested on his face. Briefly, he wondered why she was waking him so early. He smelled the perfume wafting into his face. That wasn't her shampoo or conditioner.

From where he sat, twisted oddly on the chair in the corner of his office, he jerked away from her.

"You better have a good reason for-."

Thirteen took a deep breath. "Dr. Cameron's asking for you."

* * *

There was no reason to avoid her. He leaned against the sink and wiped the cool water on his rough cheeks. The dark circles were the reminder that he hadn't slept in a real bed for over a week. The more than usual tussled hair told the story of a man who had other things on his mind. The rumpled clothes, while not something new, created the illusion he was still fine. He wasn't.

* * *

"How is she?"

"Why the hell haven't you seen her?!" Wilson shook his head before leaning against the balcony they shared. "It's four o'clock, almost _two_ hours since she asked for you, and you still haven't seen her."

He mimicked Wilson's stance without realizing it.

A long, drawn out sigh escaped Wilson's lips. "She's holding up pretty well, all things considered. Asked how the other guy was doing."

A wry smile twisted House's lips. Of course she would ask.

"I don't know," Wilson pushed himself away from the wall, "what could possibly be running through your mind. But she needs you now. So whatever it is, don't run away from it." He looked pointedly at his friend. "Not this time."

* * *

For some reason, it had been easier when she was asleep.

"And Sleeping Beauty finally wakes."

She tried a smile, but winced as the sore on her lip threatened to tear. "It hasn't... been a hundred years...has it?"

He walked into the room, sat in the empty chair, and then let his cane claim part of her bed. "That's a whole different fairytale."

Even though her whole body ached, she reached out with her right hand for his. She knew, even in her somewhat hazy mind, she'd still have to make the first move. It was enough to just feel his hand grasping hers. Her eyelids suddenly gained weight.

"I would've come earlier."

She didn't notice that he hadn't looked at her while making the statement.

The long quiet before her answer bothered him.

"I know." Even as she closed her eyes, she knew he'd lied. "Just stay, now."

With a gentleness he'd shown very few, he pulled the blanket up closer to her chin. He let himself caress her bruised cheek, before sitting back down. Watching her, he wondered how he'd gotten to this point. Anyone would say he didn't deserve her, and he would be the first to admit it. That didn't mean, however, that he was going to let her go.

He sat there, alone with her near the beginning of dusk, and for once, did as she'd said.

* * *

Sometimes, he was afraid to love her. It'd hit him so hard, that he'd have to sit down. The past two days, it had been easier to give in. He would hear her sharp breathing, and every now and then it would be followed by a quiet moan.

"What are you doing?"

He didn't move from where he was leaning against the door jam.

"Wilson's got another five mintues till lunch break."

"Oh." She breathed, only slightly worried that it was raspy.

"You thirsty?"

Even as she began to carefully shake her head, he finally walked into the room. He raised the bed so she could sit as upright as possible, and she grasped his hand when he lifted the cup to her lips. Holding his gaze, she tightened her grip on his wrist.

"I'm okay?"

He blinked. "You're okay. Damaged, but alive." That roll of her eyes made him want to kiss her.

"Don't lie."

Placing the cup back on its plate, he sighed. "MVA equals boring diagnosis."

She couldn't help but roll her eyes again.

"House...I," she rubbed his thumb with her own, then let go."You better go catch Wilson."

* * *

They stared at each other for the longest time, wasting time. He wondered why her eyes weren't puffy yet. She wondered why he wouldn't step away from the door way again.

"Boring," was all she could say before she felt the tears she'd been holding off, came trailing down her face.

He'd never gotten used to people crying, especially her. It was why he lowered his head instead of going over to her. Closing the gap between them, meant he was going to say goodbye. He wasn't willing.

She was past denial. She'd been past it since Dr. Briggham left the room, running to tell House her kidneys were shutting down and the internal bleeding couldn't be stopped. She was deep in anger. It'd only been an accident.

The cane met the other side of the room with a loud crash. It startled both of them. His chest rising and falling, he put his hands behind his head.

"Damn it," he hissed. He was Dr. House. He saved lives no one else could. He thought of diagnoses no one believed. He was a force to be reckoned with. But here was a life he couldn't save, and it was the life he wanted most.

Seeing him like she'd never seen him before, she felt her breathing slow. She couldn't do this now. She couldn't wallow in this place of pity. He would suffer more than her.

"House, come here."

After a few tense seconds, she watched him lower his hands and limp over to the chair. She took his hand, her heart stopping when he clasped it in both hands.

"Look at me." She waited until he did. Searching his face, she hoped there was an afterlife. She wanted to see him again."I love you."

"I can't..." He brought their hands to his forehead and rested on it.

"You will. You're House. Nothing stops you."

She waited for him to catch her eyes again.

"I love you, Cameron."

This time, she smiled and didn't wince.

* * *

He lay beside her, catching every faint breath on his neck. He'd turned off the monitor, not wanting to hear the long flatline that was inevitable. She'd already lost consciousness a long twenty minutes ago.

"What am I going to do without you?" he whispered to her. He knew she wouldn't answer, but maybe that's why he asked.

"I was _fine_ before." He breathed deep and closed his eyes. "Now what am I going to be?"

What he felt was defeat. He'd loved and lost, again. He always lost. He deserved to have it taken away from him. Happiness, or something close to it, didn't fit him. Holding her, he almost wished he did deserve it.

* * *

As a doctor, he knew death.

_He kissed her lips one last time while she was almost awake, wishing they weren't turning blue._

He'd breathed death.

_There was no way she had changed his life so much in just a few short months._

And death?

_Would there ever be a day he wouldn't miss her?_

It had just breathed his Cameron.

_He yelled into her hair after he felt the last feather of a breath reach him._

Time of death was 13:44.

* * *

A/N: Yes, there's the "end." I couldn't quite grasp House this chapter, so I'm very sorry that he's not...House.

I'm writing an epilogue though, so for those who hate epilogues, I bid farewell. I also thank you very much for reading!

For those who want one more chapter to truly wrap things up, stick around just another few days. Thanks!


	17. Almost alone

A/N: Now it's definitely finished! Now I can catch up on some very neglected stories.

So, for those of you who managed to get this far, thanks. I know it's hard to read a NHEA. Just, many many thanks.

And here it is, taking place a couple of months after Cameron's death.

* * *

He looked up to see Wilson walking towards him on the picnic table. He didn't say anything as his friend sat beside him on top of the table.

They both stared ahead, watching a few people meander by, apparently happy to be out in the chill December air.

"How long have you been out here?"

"Not long."

Wilson glanced at his friend. "Well, Thirteen's, I can't believe I know her name and still call her Thirteen. Anyways, she's been looking for you for the past two hours."

"Yeah, they're trying to diagnose fart guy."

His mouth opened to ask for more details, but then he thought better of it. Instead, he sat there, quiet. He'd been doing that a lot more lately.

House sighed. "I'm...taking a vacation. Next week."

Wilson turned his head, but House was still staring at something he hadn't seen yet.

"Bahamas?"

"I do love my half-naked baked women."

"Don't forget the drugs and drinks."

They both nodded. Each knew House was finished. There would be the occasional one night stand with a woman who almost always looked like her. A hooker would be called for twice when the thought of her, coupled with the ache in his thigh, needed distraction. His heart, though, was beyond repair. Thirteen would try. She'd fail. He would never shake the woman who took her last breath in his arms.

"Pacific Coast Highway. Apparently, it's the most dangerous road in America. Figured I'd give it a run for its money, starting with Oregon."

He wanted to tell the man to not try anything stupid. It would've been futile. He wanted to tell him that driving on that highway was too dangerous. This was a good lecture time. He wanted to take some of his pain away. He couldn't.

"That's good." He picked up the staring at nothing game. "That's good.

* * *

The screen showed the New Year's Ball still on top. Muted, it didn't hold as much anticipation as it usually did.

The lone beer on the coffee table, was halfway gone. Two weeks after she'd died, the table had been full of stale and fresh drinks. It'd been his breaking point, that day when he couldn't hold it in any longer and let himself go. Everyone had been expecting it, but no one had been able to pinpoint how long it would take for him to crack. Two weeks. It'd taken him fourteen days to cut work and drown his sorrows in the first bottle of scotch.

They'd let him. He wouldn't have stopped anyways. That third week was nothing but a vague sensation of cool tile and warm water mixed with the sour smell of raw vomit. Wilson had been there through the last two days of it. They didn't speak of it.

Beside the bottle, was a burnt orange vial filled with familiar white pills. He was back on the vicodin. He hurt. He needed relief. It helped. No one could tell him otherwise.

Nine minutes, forty-three seconds until the new year. He ran a hand through his hair, still not used to smelling fruit. He'd have to buy a new bottle soon.

The stillness of his apartment, made him uneasy these days. Sitting on his small couch, he could hear people hollering beyond his windows, cars honking horns, and even the occasional illegal firecracker. It happened beyond his small world. It happened without him.

He hadn't moved anything of hers. Not her spare shirts in his closet. Not her underwear and slacks in one drawer beside his. Not her brush, still holding a few strands of her hair. He'd do it eventually. One day, when the air was colder than it had ever been, he would put her things in one cardboard box and throw it out, watching the garbage man handle it ungraciously. It'd be the day he finally didn't expect her to walk into the kitchen, sleepy and groggy, reaching over him for some coffee.

Three minutes, two seconds to go. He thought about turning the sound on, but never reached for the remote control.

In his hand, was a picture of them. He was sitting. She was standing behind him with her arms falling over his shoulders and meeting at his chest. Her eyes were focused on him when the picture was taken. Her smile was wide, happy. His eyes looked straight forward, probably begging Wilson to get it over with. His smile wasn't wide, but it was happy.

Placed between a picture of her brother and name card for the dry cleaners, her brother had found it as he looked through her belongings. They'd stared at each other in his office since he couldn't bring himself to walk into an apartment that still held her memory. The brother shook his head as he handed the wallet sized photo over. At first, he'd made no move to receive it. That was when the brother lost his composure, falling into the unopen arms of the only man who would miss her as much as he had.

The ball dropped on Times Square. The confetti fell in dazzling colors. Banners ran high and low. Mouths opened wide, probably shouting out in delight. Couples kissed heatedly, oblivious or maybe not, to cameras. It was still silent in his apartment.

It was the only picture he had in his wallet, now. It was the only one he wanted on him at all times. It would be with him the day he died. It would be lost in the shuffle, only to be found by a young man working as a night janitor. Long battered and soft by then, it would tear as he fingered it. It would become scraps, pieces of a memory that would never be remembered by anyone. It would fade, along with his legacy, as the years danced by.

"Happy New Year," he said to someone who might or might not be alive in an afterlife he was starting to think of as possible.

.end.


End file.
